My Life: The Untold Story
by MrsHJBlack
Summary: Hermione is coming to the end of her young life. Now she is writing about the life no one knew. What was her childhood really like? And what happened to her after the war? Disclaimer: I don't own anything
1. Prologue

_I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I couldn't take any more, I had to get away. I ran to the train station and boarded the first train I could see. I didn't care where it was going, the further the better, I just had to get away. I needed a new life, a different life, where nobody knows who I am, or what I've done. I've been running for most of my life, maybe now I can find a place where I can stop running._


	2. Chapter 1

My name is Hermione Jane Black, and soon I will be dead. Recently I have been thinking about the life I have had, and how I have come to be the person I am today. I grew up with my mother, Grace, my step-father, who at the time I believed to my real father, Gareth, my brother, Max and my four sisters, Charlotte, Michelle, Stephanie and Felicity.

As a child, I spent a lot of the time away from my family and away from home. I started taking an interest in different activities, figure skating, kick-boxing, gymnastics, but most importantly, music. I taught myself how to play the drums, the piano, and best of all, the guitar, both electric and acoustic. All of these things I shared with my best friends, Katherine (Kate), Chastity (Chaz), Bethany (Beth), Samantha (Sam), Kaylee (Kay), Sienna (Si), and Skylar (Sky).

Sadly several injuries put a stop to most of my activities, but I still had my music, and when I was seven I started taking dance classes. This is where I met one of my closest and most important friends, Lewis. He was two years older than me, and had been taking those classes for just as long, He taught me everything I know about dancing. I was starting to feel as though my life wasn't as bad as I first thought. I should have known it wouldn't last.


	3. Chapter 2

It was only three months after my seventh birthday that life began to go downhill very quickly. It was a cold, wet December afternoon, and I was walking home after my dance class. I was exhausted, but otherwise I was feeling elated. I arrived at my house, and the minute I walked through the door I knew something was wrong. I could feel an atmosphere in the air. The house had never seemed so quiet. By this time, Max and Charlotte had left home, and Michelle had been missing for a couple of years, so it was only me, Stephanie and Felicity still at home.

I walked into the living. I was afraid at what I saw. The entire room had been smashed to pieces. The pictures on the wall had been torn down, the coffee table was broken in half, glasses and bottles that had been smashed against the wall now lay in thousands of pieces on the fall.

"Hello, Hermione," said a voice from the corner of the room. I turned and saw my step-father sitting on the sofa with a glass of what looked like whiskey.

"Daddy? What happened?" I asked him quietly. I was used to seeing him drink; he always drank, and was always unpredictable when he did.

He looked at me, with heat in his eyes. I was afraid, more afraid than I had ever been. I always felt that no one in my family had ever really liked me, especially him, but now with the look in his eyes, I knew I was right.

"You," he began quietly. "You and your mother, that's what happened." I was confused. What had I done? What had my mum done? I knew deep down that she wasn't the perfect wife and mother that people believed she was, but she couldn't have done anything that bad to make him that angry, could she?

"Where's mummy?" I asked him in fear.

"She said she was going out with friends," he replied disbelievingly. "Probably shagging that bloke she met, and it's all your fault."

I was confused. What did he mean? What was my fault? I knew I should leave him to his drinking, so I turned, but before I could leave I heard a smash behind me. I turned back around and was pushed against the wall, he had his around my throat. I was so scared, I couldn't move even if I wanted to. He tightened his grip on my throat, and threw me to the floor.

He began to kick me over and over, constantly repeating the same words, "This is your fault, this is all your fault." All I could feel was pain before I eventually passed out.

When I finally woke up I was in agony. I raised my head, and as best as I could, I looked around me. I couldn't see him and the house was still quiet. I shakily stood up and began to slowly make my way to the front door. I took out my phone, which was given to me in case of emergency, and sent a quick text to Lewis.

I slowly walked to the park, where I met Lewis. He took one look at me and knew what had happened. He carefully put his arms around me and hugged me at tight as he could without casing me pain.

"You should go the police," he said as soon as he let me go. He took out a first aid kit from his bag abd began to treat my injuries.

"I can't," I replied. "My mum doesn't speak to me that much as it is, she won't speak to me at all if I could to the police. My family hate the police."

"Well, you shouldn't go back there," Lewis said with worry. "Come and stay with me for a bit. My parents won't mind."

"I can't stay too far away from home, or they'll wonder why." Lewis looked at me in concern, before I continued, "I'll stay next door with Kate. Her parents are always fine with me being there. Lew, I'll be fine. I promise."

I gave him a hug before I turned and began to walk back home.

It was about a week later when things got worse. Life at home was getting worse and worse every day, with no hope of it getting better. It was a cold and rainy evening when I was walking through the park and I ran into one of Max's friends. Matt Edwards was a well-known criminal drug dealer in our area. I'd known for as long as I could remember, but I didn't really know that much about him.

"Hermione," he said with some surprise. "What is a lovely young lady such as yourself doing wandering the streets at this time of night an in this weather?"

He always was a charmer, I should have known not to trust anything he said.

"I needed to get out of the house for a bit," I told him. "It's been a bit mad recently."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked with, what seemed to be genuine concern. I shook my head. "In that case, why don't we just sit on the bench and you can have some of this drink." He showed me a bottle that he had and told me that it will make me feel better.

I trusted him. He was a friend of the family, I had no reason not to trust him. After a while I began to feel odd, weak, as though my body had stopped working. The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning with him, in his bed, with both of our clothes on his bedroom floor. I looked around his room, and all I could see was photographs of me, on every wall. I still don't remember how I got there, or anything that happened the night before. I later learnt that it was vodka spiked with cocaine that he gave me. That was only the first of many encounters I had with Matt.


End file.
